


But A Woman’s Hands Are Warm

by ThisIsMyDecline



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), O Brother Where Art Thou? (2000)
Genre: 1930’s, Aged up characters, Blowjobs, Escaped Prisoners, F/M, GASP, Great Depression, Great Depression Era, Jorah’s not in the friendzone, O brother where Art thou AU, Oral Sex, Poor Tormund, Riding, Rivers, Sandor Clegane Swears, Sex on the ground, Siren Brienne of Tarth, Siren Daenerys Targaryen, Siren Sansa Stark, Sirens, Tormund just wants some lovin’, Virgin Sandor Clegane, Water Sex, good jaime Lannister, the great depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 00:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsMyDecline/pseuds/ThisIsMyDecline
Summary: While driving to nowhere in particular, the boys are drawn in by some mysterious ladies.





	But A Woman’s Hands Are Warm

**Author's Note:**

> My fun little twist on a certain scene from an awesome movie ;) ❤️.
> 
>  
> 
> (Okay so Sansa is aged up and Daenerys has her book appearance but is aged up like she is in the show, the rest of them have their looks from the show. And I do not own any of the characters or the song.)

While driving the stolen truck, Jorah would take his eyes off if the road and admire the beauty of the surrounding woods. Jaime sat beside him, looking out of his window while the rest of the boys sat in the bed.

“Tormund I swear to gods if you don’t cut it out, that thing is goin’ up your ass!” shouted Sandor.

Everyone else laughed while Tormund continued to play. “You said that an hour ago, Clegane.”

“Well, I’m sayin’ it again. Cut it out!”

Tormund rolled his eyes and stopped playing. “Fine.” He pulled the banjo off and sat it next to him.

Bronn took another bite of his apple and asked “Not a banjo guy, I take it? How’s about I sing for us then, hmm? _He rode through the streets of the city_  
_Down from his hill on_ —”

“Shh, shut up!” Tormund said, perking up.

Both men gave him funny looks and Sandor asked “What’s your problem?”

Tormund shushed him and said “Listen. Just listen.” They went with it and after a moment, they could hear singing in the distance.

“ _He rode through the streets of the city_  
_Down from his hill on high_  
_O’ er the winds and the steps and the cobble_  
_He rode to woman’s sigh_ —”

Before they could say anything, Tormund started bouncing up and down, making a strange noise before banging on the truck. “Pull over! Pull over now!”

Thinking something was wrong, Jorah stopped the truck, and he got out. “What is it?”

Without answering his question, Tormund climbed out of the truck and started following the noise. While getting out, Sandor shook his head. “Bloody lunatic.”

They called his name as they followed him, the singing growing louder and louder. They’d be lying if they said the singing wasn’t getting to them too, but the eerie thing was the song was the same one Bronn started to sing. When they stepped out of the trees, they found themselves at a river, stopping when they saw four women in the river sitting on a group of boulders.

 _“And red the grass beneath his feet,_  
_And red his banners bright._  
_And red the glow of setting sun._  
_That bathed him in its light._  
_Come on, come on the great lord called._  
_My sword is hungry still.”_

All of them were wet from the water, their clothes clinging to their flesh for dear life. They sang as they looked at them, washing and wringing out their clothes. A silver haired beauty seemed to be the leader of them, her violet eyes fixed right on Jorah as she beat a piece of clothing against the rock. A redhead on her left had her blue eyes fixed on Sandor, a shy smile on her face as she bent over to rewash what was in her hands. To Sandor it had to be a dream. A woman that beautiful would never look at him the way she’s looking at him. Or any other woman for that matter.

A brown-haired girl smirked and hitched her skirt up while looking at Bronn, his eyes falling to her legs as it slid further up her thighs. Tormund has his eyes glued on the largest of them, a tall blond with short hair who combed her fingers through her wet hair. Only her eyes were on Jaime, not him.

“Are we dead?” asked Bronn, breaking the silence. “Think they actually killed us while we were runnin’?”

Sandor’s watched as the redhead slowly got bolder, hitching her skirt up with one hand, exposing long, pale legs. She used the other to play with the collar of her soaked dress, and then the straps of her underwear beneath. “Not sure...If we are, I’m not complainin’.”

“Don’t know, don’t care, but the big one is mine!” Jaime came up to stand beside him and patted his back, not saying a word though he knew the truth.

 _“He rode through the streets of the city_  
_Down from his hill on high,_  
_O’ er the winds and the steps and the cobble,_  
_He rode to woman’s sigh._  
_For she was his secret treasure,_  
_She was his shame and his bliss._  
_And a chain and a keep are nothing_  
_Compared to a woman’s kiss.”_

All four of them carefully got off of the boulders and came towards them, still singing. When they reached the rocks, they just stood there, watching as the silver beauty came to stand in front of Jorah. Everything about her sent chills down his spine and he couldn’t think of anything to say. She smiled and reached up, cupping her hand around the back of his neck. He let her pull him down for a kiss and the other girls moved.

The brown-haired one wasted no time in stripping herself of her clothes as she came up to Bronn, his eyes falling to the right little body. Before he could say anything she was dropping to her knees, seemingly unfazed by the dirt or the rocks scraping against her skin.

She freed him from his pants just enough before taking him into her mouth. It’s been years since he was last with a woman, and he almost came right then and there.

Still bewitched by her beauty, Jorah watched as his silver slowly pulled and pushed her own clothes before tearing at his. He let her push him down to the ground and leaned back as she pulled at his pants.

Tormund smiled as the big one came towards him, but it disappeared as soon as she turned and took Jaime’s hand, pulling him towards the hill they came down from. He watched as his woman got on her back, Jaime getting down to slot himself between her legs. Not wanting to see that, he turned and looked at the rest of his friends. Bronn was now taking his whore from behind, Jorah was on his back as his rode him, and even Sandor was fucking his while she was pinned up against one of the boulders, legs wrapped tight around his hips. What he wouldn’t do for a nice, stiff drink.

 _“For a hands of gold are always cold,_  
_But a woman’s hands are warm._  
_For a hands of gold are always cold,_  
_But a woman’s hands are warm._  
_For a hands of gold are always cold,_  
_But a woman’s hands are warm._  
_For a hands of gold are always cold,_  
_But a woman’s hands are warm.”_


End file.
